


Here For A Reason|RWBY x USMC Male Reader

by Lord_Pebis



Category: RWBY
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21864937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Pebis/pseuds/Lord_Pebis
Summary: What began as just another normal day for (F/N) (L/N) quickly turned into the worst few hours of his life. Plucked from the battlefield and spit out into an unfamiliar land, (F/N) must do everything in his power to stay alive.
Kudos: 5





	1. General Disclaimer/Author's Note

Hello Reader!

This is a RWBY x USMC Male Reader fanfiction. I've seen plenty of these fics, but never really enjoyed any of them. So, I decided to take it upon myself to write the story my way. Please note that all chapters are subject to change until the story is marked as completed and that any continuity errors in the story are a result of me making edits as I write and will be addressed. Other than that, please...

Enjoy the story!

Lord_Pebis

Disclaimer:

This is a work of imagination that takes place in the RWBY universe. Lord_Pebis, the author, claims no legal ownership over characters, creatures, or locations in the RWBY universe. Additionally, any characters and their subsequent views are fictional and in no way reflect the opinion of the author or mirror. The universe of RWBY and all it holds are the sole property of Rooster Teeth LLC and its associates.


	2. From Desert Sands

Heat and boredom. Two simple words, but, to the men and women that served in the deserts of Afghanistan, that was their world. As Private First Class (F/N) (L/N) of the First Reconnaissance Battalion stared out of the open window of his Humvee, he was reminded of this.

Hanging just above the horizon, the rich red hues of the setting sun blended with various shades of oranges and purples, making the sky itself appear as if it was ablaze. (F/N), however, was too tired to appreciate it. A strenuous day of driving, getting shot at, waiting, and then waiting some more under that blistering sun had sapped what little energy he had.

A bead of sweat rolled down the inside of his glasses. He let it be, watching as it slowly ran down the yellow lens. After a moment, he lifted his shooting glasses and wiped it off. His eyes settled back on the mountains in the distance.

He let out a quiet sigh. He was tired, hot, hungry, et cetera. He could think of a million different reasons to complain about his day. What else was new?

His watch emitted a sharp beep, cutting through the growl of the Humvee's engine. He glanced down at his wrist. His blank expression turned into a frown.

 **1800** the digital display of his watch read.

He should've been back behind the wire hours ago. He let his hand flop back into his lap.

 _Maybe if people did their job right, we wouldn't be late_ , he thought looking out the window again. The burnt husk of a car passed by. _Maybe if people did their jobs right, we wouldn't have to be here, in the middle of heat-stroke, butt-fuck nowhere, riding around in a tin can that screams "hey, shoot at me!"_.

"Right," he whispered. "That would be the day."

As he stared out the window, listening to the dull hum of the engine, he ran through a mental checklist of things he had to do once he got home. He guesstimated he still had a few more hours to endure before he could sleep.

 _Could be worse_ , he thought, _it could always be worse_.

His musings were interrupted by something smacking him in the back of the head.

"(F/N), Jesus dude," a nasally voice chuckled, "get your head out of your ass."

(F/N) glared at the offender. To his left, just behind the legs of the turret gunner, (F/N) was met with a round, pale face, accentuated by a pair of striking green eyes and a permanent smirk.

"Whats, Leo?" (F/N) asked, readjusting his helmet.

"I was trying to get your attention," said PFC Leo Green.

"You messed up my headset, dick."

Leo shrugged. "You were off in la-la land again, man."

(F/N) had met Leo during basic. The man was a year older than him, which was misleading because he looked older. That facade tended to be broken when he opened his mouth though. He'd come from some middle of nowhere town in Michigan, booted out by his family, and somehow found himself in the Marines. Good guy, not the brightest, but he was one of the few people (F/N) really enjoyed talking to.

"Whatever," (F/N) grumbled, checking his headset's connection. "Good throw I guess."

Leo grinned and flexed his bicep. "Varsity baseball, baby."

"Uh-huh, and uh, tell me again how that turned out for you?" (F/N) said, the corners of his mouth curling into a smug smile.

"Oh ha ha, fuck you too," Leo said, lowering his arm. "Can you pick up what I threw at you? It's at your feet."

"Why don't you get up and do it yourself?"

"You hurt my feelings."

(F/N) rolled his eyes but complied nonetheless.

Looking down, he saw a brightly colored plastic bag resting against his right boot. With a soft grunt, he bent over and scooped it up. As he straightened back up, Leo stuck out his hand expectantly.

However, instead of handing it back, (F/N) eyed it with mild interest. The bag wasn't just any bag, it was candy; more specifically, Jolly Ranchers.

"Damn," (F/N) said aloud, turning the bag in his hands. "Fruit 'n Sour flavor. Where did you manage to find these?"

"Exchange finally restocked."

(F/N) looked up. "Really, when?"

"Monday."

"And no-one told me?"

Leo shrugged. "I dunno, figured you knew."

(F/N) looked back down at the bag. "I'm guessing there's nothing good left."

"Nope. It was like watching vultures swarm a fuckin' carcass. I nearly fought a dude from two-nine for those."

"Huh," (F/N) hummed. "Too bad you didn't. Would've paid to see your skinny ass get punked."

Leo chuckled. (F/N) smiled, eyeing the bag some more.

"Could-" (F/N) began.

"Nope."

(F/N) looked up, his mouth still open.

"You didn't even know what I was going to fucking say!" he said, his brain unfreezing.

"You were going to ask for some."

"Yeah, but-"

"No."

"Oh come on, man, please?"

"Nope."

"Why not? I haven't seen candy in fucking _months_."

Leo said nothing, clearly unmoved.

"You owe me, anyways," (F/N) muttered.

Leo squinted.

"You forgot?"

"Wait," Leo mumbled.

"Cole's house."

Leo seemed to space out for a moment.

"Oh," he said, the memory coming to him, "right."

"Hah!"

"How long have you been waiting to use that against me?"

"Too long, dog," (F/N) laughed. "I have never seen anyone more sauced-"

"Fine, fine, fine," Leo interjected, waving a hand, "just take some candy and we'll be even."

(F/N) grinned. He plucked the strip of tape holding the bag closed and stuck it to his helmet.

"But only a few!"

"I got it," (F/N) said, "thanks, buddy."

Leo grumbled something unintelligible, no doubt a curse. (F/N) plunged his hand into the plastic bag, scooping out a fistful of sweets. As he rolled up the bag, he could see Leo watching on from the corner of his eye with a look of defeat sprinkled with disappointment.

"That was more than a few."

"I'm aware."

(F/N) rolled it closed, slapped the tape back on, and tossed it back to Leo. He turned his attention to the candies in his palm. Unable to choose, he eventually resolved to just pick one at random. Cramming the rest into a pocket, he unwound one end of the wrapper and squeezed the candy into his mouth.

"Mmm, green apple," (F/N) said loudly.

"Yeah, don't choke on it," Leo scoffed.

(F/N) smiled and closed his eyes. He enjoyed teasing Leo when there was nothing to do, it was too easy. He knew that Leo would get him back soon enough though.

He sighed and relaxed into the stiff seat. _At least I'll have gotten something good out of it._

His thoughts shifted his thoughts to the candy. How long had it been since he had had something that tasted halfway decent? Weeks? Months? The raids on supply convoys had ramped up in the past few months. It was nearly impossible to get anything they needed nowadays.

"Anyways..." Leo sighed, bringing (F/N) back to the present.

(F/N) cracked open an eye. "'Anyways' what?"

"I don't know, I'm bored."

"Is that why you threw shit at me?"

"Yeah."

"And you did that because you think I'm gonna be able to help you with that?"

"You're the one with the ideas."

"Hmm..." (F/N) trailed off, opening his other eye, "euchre?"

"Left my cards on my cot."

"Damn."

He stared at the roof for a while longer, listening to the Humvee rattle as it bounced across the road.

"Well..." Leo said, "I also kinda sorta maybe wanted an excuse to look at that, ah, "thing"."

(F/N) raised his head. "You're talking about that funky looking cylinder, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Do we have it?"

Leo pointed at him. "I'll check."

Leo carefully set the stock of his M249 against the floor and twisted around. With a grunt, he pushed a box blocking the small hole that led into the trunk.

"Lots o' boxes back here," Leo grunted as he pushed another box aside.

(F/N) turned around. "It's small, metal, and grey."

Leo got out of his seat to reach farther back. After a few minutes, he pushed himself out of the back of the Humvee, dragging out a small box with him.

"That's the one," (F/N) confirmed.

It was as he had described, a nondescript, grey, metal box. Leo placed it on the gunner's platform between him and (F/N).

"H'okay," Leo said, rubbing his hands together. "I've been waiting to get a good look at this."

He flipped the singular latch holding the lid closed and lifted the top. Inside the box, sitting on top of numerous papers written in a language they couldn't read, sat the object of their attention.

They both leaned in. The 'thing', as Leo had called it, was a steel cylinder that (F/N) guesstimated was thirty centimeters long and a radius at least a fourth of that. What made it stand out from any ordinary hunk of well-machined metal were the four crystals that were inserted into separate slots, each covered by a sheet of glass.

"Weird," Leo said.

"Yeah," (F/N) agreed.

They stared at it for a while longer.

"Wanna do the honors?" Leo asked.

(F/N) nodded and removed his gloves. Using both hands, he reached into the box and pulled the cylinder from its nest of papers. He grimaced a little, adjusting his grip. It was heavier than it looked.

He was momentarily distracted by the loudclang of Leo flipping the lid shut. (F/N) shook his head, returning his attention to the cylinder in his hands.

After turning it over several times, he kept finding his eyes drawn towards the crystals. He brought the cylinder closer to his face, peering through one of the scratched and dusty glass panels.

"These crystals," (F/N) stated.

"What about 'em?" Leo asked.

"I think they're different colors." (F/N) licked his thumb and rubbed some of the dust from the glass. "One purple, two yellow, and... one white."

"Huh."

A moment passed in silence. (F/N) turned the 'thing' in his hands once more.

"Here," he said, holding it out for Leo to take, "why don't you give it a look."

Leo carefully took the device from (F/N). He began turning it in his hands.

After watching him in silence for a while, (F/N) spoke. "I'm getting some serious _Star Trek_ vibes from this shit, man."

Leo paused his inspection to look up at (F/N), an eyebrow raised. " _Star Trek_... really, dude?"

(F/N) shrugged. "Dunno, just think it looks like something out of a sci-fi movie."

"Turbo-fucking-nerd," Leo mumbled, returning his attention to the cylinder.

"Hey, fuck you, _Star Trek_ is the shit," (F/N) chuckled. "Better than the garbage you watch."

Leo simply smiled, too absorbed in thought to form a remark.

Not long after, he frowned and brought the 'thing' closer to his face. He tapped a finger against the cylinder. "There's a screen here."

"What?" (F/N) asked, pulling his glasses down.

Sure enough, near what (F/N) assumed was the top was a tiny black rectangle. The thick coat of dust covering the object had made it next to impossible to distinguish it from the rest of the gunmetal grey steel.

"No kidding."

Leo swiped his finger over the screen.

"What do you think it is?" (F/N) asked.

"With our luck... probably a bomb," Leo said very matter-of-factly.

"I mean," (F/N) mumbled, "I saw the EOD guys take it from that truck."

There was a lull in the conversation as they both glanced down at the 'thing'.

"You think we should mention this to Boyd?" Leo asked.

(F/N) raised an eyebrow at the mention of his squad leader's name. "Really? You want to tell him we were fucking with a potentailly _active bomb_?"

Leo opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"He's already pissy enough."

"Uh," Leo managed to mumble, "yeah, probably not."

"Hey, uh, guys?" the gunner called out.

"S'up, Torres?" Leo answered.

PFC Torres Denzel, a Black guy with the thickest Minnesotan accent (F/N) had ever heard, shifted his feet. "Can you look at our eleven and tell me what you see?"

Leo handed the object to (F/N) and hefted his M249. (F/N) slid the box back in front of him and placed the object back inside.

"Uh," Leo mumbled, peering through his scope, "cluster of mud huts."

"What?" Torres shouted.

"Mud huts!" (F/N) yelled back, securing the latch. _About time._

Houses meant they were nearing the city. Home was not too far past that.

"Yeah, I see the houses," Torres said, "but I think I saw something else."

"You're gonna have to be more specific," Leo said.

Torres shifted his feet. "I... I'm not sure. It looked like a flash of light. I don't know, it was out of the corner of my eye."

"A flash," Leo repeated to himself. He turned his head to the front. "Hey, Boyd!"

"What's up?" Corporal Austin Boyd, a white Texan man in his late-twenties, responded in his light southern drawl.

"We got a flash of light in the distance at eleven o'clock, probably thirty meters off the highway."

"Helpful," Boyd stated sarcastically.

Leo shot Boyd a nasty glare.

"Glass it again, paint me a picture."

Leo shook his head and peered through his scope again. "Four, no... five mud-huts. No animals, no cars, no people."

"Anything else?"

Leo shook his head slightly. "Jack-shit."

"Let's wait until we get closer before we make any decisions," Boyd suggested, "keep your eyes peeled."

"Affirm," Leo said.

The Humvee maintained its pace. (F/N) shifted to the left, peering around Boyd's seat. Through the windshield, he could make out the cluster of houses. Behind stretched the nothingness that was the Afghani desert.

Plenty of small deserted villages like this dotted the land. They were a magnet for all sides involved. Nobody knew what could be hiding in them, a farmer and his family or a guy with an RPG, just itching to blow whatever poor sap passed by him to hell.

He watched them in silence. After a few seconds, he was starting to believe that Torres was just full of it. That's when he saw it: a brief flash of light.

"See that?" Torres yelled.

"Yeah!" (F/N) yelled back.

"I didn't!" Leo said.

Boyd tapped the driver on the shoulder. "David, call it in."

Lance Corporal David Ruíz, a close friend of Boyd's and replacement for their usual driver who was sick, reached over to his right, picking up a handheld microphone. He pressed the talk button, causing the radio to emit a harsh beep.

"One-Two to One-One," David began, "be advised, our gunner has spotted a glare at the cluster of houses to our ten, how copy?"

He released the button and was greeted by white noise.

"Hey," Leo hissed.

(F/N) looked at his friend, who was looking over his shoulder.

"What the hell's going on?"

"Shut up and keep your gun on the houses," Boyd said.

The radio beeped loudly, _"One-Two, this is One-One, can confirm the glare. Our gunner saw it too, stay sharp, over."_

David brought the mic up to his mouth again. "Good copy, One-One."

"Gun up, Denzel!" Boyd yelled. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "(L/N), get ready to replace him. It's probably nothing, but just be ready for anything."

"Rog," (F/N) answered.

(F/N) performed a quick check of his weapon, an M4A1 carbine. Full magazine? Check. Bullet in the chamber? Double check. He gave the forward assist a couple of good taps with the heel of his palm and turned his eyes back to the windshield.

They waited in silence, the Humvee getting closer and closer every passing second. There had been no incidents reported in the past few weeks so close to the city, so this might just be a fluke.

But deep down in (F/N)'s gut, something felt off.

"Movement," Leo announced. "One person. Ran from the leftmost house to the one next to it."

"Anyone else?" Boyd asked.

"Neg-" Leo paused. "Wait, wait, wait... fuck I can barely see him, but I think I got a guy on the roof of the second house."

Suddenly, the window spiderwebbed with a loud _CRACK!_

(F/N)'s heart jumped into his throat as the Humvee swerved violently.

"Fucker!" David yelled, the Humvee straightening out.

"Light him up, Green!" Boyd shouted.

Leo let loose a quick series of bursts.

"Lost visual!" Leo said. "Bastard moved!"

The radio beeped. _"One-Two, what the fuck was that? What are you shooting at?"_

"This is One-Two," David hurriedly said into the mic, "we received accurate small arms fire from the village. It cracked our windshield but didn't penetrate, over."

Almost immediately after David ended the transmission, the radio beeped. _"All vics be advised, you are clear to engage. Target the cluster of houses off of the road."_

The air suddenly filled with the sounds of war; guns booming, sending salvos of lead and fire at the shooter. Leo started sending volley after volley of tracers, occasionally hurling obscenities that were nearly drowned out by the chatter of the M2 heavy machine gun above him. Despite the sudden chaos, the convoy never lost momentum. They drew closer and closer by the second.

As they came within fifty meters of the first house the radio beeped. Before the message could be transmitted, a stream of red tracers erupted seemingly from thin air. The rounds shredded through the Humvee in front of them, sending up a cloud of metal chunks and dust.

(F/N) was slammed against the door as the Humvee veered left, narrowly avoiding crashing into One-One. He managed to catch a glimpse of the wreckage that was One-One: shattered windows, bent, and twisted metal and a blood-splattered turret shield.

"Jesus Christ," (F/N) muttered under his breath.

"Fuck!" Leo yelled. "What the _fuck_ was that?"

"David, stop-" Boyd began.

His order came too late. (F/N) ears were suddenly barraged by the loud _POP!_ s and _BANG!_ s of bullets punching through the doors.

He reacted on instinct, pulling his carbine into his stomach and shoving his head between his legs, making himself as small of a target as possible. He was tossed from side to side in his seat as the Humvee veered wildly.

Then, almost as quickly as the chaos started, it stopped.

Shakily, (F/N) raised his head. He felt wired, like he had been shocked by 1,000 volts of electricity. His eyes flicked around the cabin, trying to figure out what happened.

Movement through the windshield caught his attention. Though the thin red spray that now covered the glass, he could make out a wall rapidly approaching.

"Oh, f-"

The Humvee smashed into the wall with an earth-shattering _CRASH!_

(F/N) was hurled forwards as if he had been launched from a cannon. He slammed into the seat in front of him, knocking his head against the metal backing.

As everything came to rest, he slid to the floor, cradling his head in his hands, cursing profusely through gritted teeth. It felt like someone had smashed a hammer against his temple. His ears were ringing too, so loudly that it actually drowned out his surroundings.

He laid still, waiting for the pain to dull somewhat. Eventually, he managed to gingerly worked a hand under his helmet. Feeling around, nothing seemed amiss. He removed his hand and checked for blood. Nothing.

"Agh," he groaned, his voice cracking slightly.

As his senses came back to him, he realized it was quiet, silent almost, save for the creaking of metal and hiss of steam and incoming fire from the convoy in the distance.

Careful to not aggravate his pounding head, (F/N) slowly uncurled, coming to his knees with a loud grunt.

"Hey!" a voice suddenly called. "Who is that?"

"(L/N)!" (F/N) said. "That you, Leo?"

"Yeah." Leo coughed. "Fuckin' A, dude... anyone else okay?"

He received no response. (F/N) blinked a few times, trying to keep the dust out of his eyes.

"Agh, fucking shit," (F/N) hissed.

"You all good?" Leo asked.

"Cracked my head against Boyd's seat."

"Concussion, maybe?"

"Maybe... I don't know. It just hurts like a mother."

(F/N) heard Leo shuffle around for a minute.

"Fuck," Leo muttered, "Boyd's dead... Ruíz too."

"Shit," (F/N) spat. "What about Torres?"

"Hold on."

(F/N) raised his head and looked behind him. Leo was in his seat, hunched over Torres, who was sprawled out on the gunner's platform.

"Is he..." (F/N) trailed off.

Leo shook his head. "Just unconscious."

"Better than dead... fuck, we gotta get out."

"Yeah," Leo breathed. "Uh, get his shoulders, you're gonna have to help me-"

Leo stopped mid-sentence, snapping his head towards the window.

"Leo?" (F/N) asked.

His friend held up a hand, signaling for silence. (F/N) tensed. His ears were still ringing.

"Shit-biscuits, IUF," Leo said.

(F/N)'s heart skipped a beat. He looked down for his weapon.

It was at this moment he realized his M4 was nowhere to be found.

His eyes darted around the floor, searching for his weapon. He'd had it in his hands when they crashed, it couldn't've gone far.

"Leo, I can't find my fucking gun!" (F/N) whispered.

"Sidearm, dipshit!" Leo hissed back, sliding down to his side of the floor.

(F/N) cursed under his breath and drew his pistol, an M45A1, and aimed it at the window above Leo. Again they waited.

After minutes of dead-silence, Leo spoke. "I hear footsteps."

(F/N) nodded. He tried to slow his breathing, which was erratic. He needed to stay cool, stay collected.

The silhouette of a person suddenly appeared in the window. (F/N) reflexively pulled the trigger.

His headset switched off briefly, blocking most of the noise, but the gunshot still reverberated through the cabin, sending a spike of pain through his skull. As he pulled the trigger again, the silhouette fell from sight.

"Out, get out!" (F/N) shouted.

He turned around and grabbed onto the door handle. Pushing up, he drove his shoulder into the heavy door and threw himself out onto the sand.

As he hit the ground, he rolled onto his side, getting a clear view under the Humvee. In the setting sun's light, he could make out two pairs of legs and what looked like a dead body. (F/N) aimed and pulled the trigger wildly, the muzzle flashes lighting up his vision.

The group scattered in different directions.

As the slide of his pistol locked back, (F/N) sat up and scrambled to take cover behind the rear wheel.

"Fuck," he panted, "fuck, fuck, _fuck_!"

He let the magazine drop into his lap. Pulling out a fresh one from his belt he slammed it home.

"Leo, fuckin' move it!"

Just as (F/N) sent the slide forward, Leo came tumbling out of the Humvee. (F/N) pushed himself to his feet and ran over to assist his friend. Hauling Leo to his feet, he looked over his shoulder just in time to see an AK barrel poke out from behind the trunk.

He pushed Leo forwards and brought his pistol up, firing a few shots. The owner of the weapon ducked away. (F/N) felt Leo pat him on the back.

"Got your six!" Leo said.

"Affirm!" (F/N) responded.

They waited for a few seconds for more contact, but nothing came. (F/N), shaking from the adrenaline pumping through his veins, shook his head.

"F-fuck!" he stammered. "Shit!"

"You hit?" Leo asked.

"No, I just, I think I got one."

"Right on."

"Y-yeah."

He heard Leo shuffle towards him.

"Hey," Leo said.

"What?"

"I got a rifle for you."

"Whose is it?"

"Boyd's."

(F/N) holstered his pistol and turned around. Leo, an arm outstretched, had Boyd's M4A1 in hand. (F/N) took it, relieved to have an actual weapon.

"Thanks, dude."

"Yeah, no problem," Leo said. "You're doing good, bro."

"Thanks."

(F/N) wondered how shaken up he must've looked if Leo of all people had to reassure him. (F/N) turned back around and took a knee, aiming his barrel at the trunk.

"What, uh... what's our next move?" (F/N) asked.

"Um, well..." Leo said, "we can hole up in one of these houses, probably get swamped, then die or we can stay out here, _definitely_ get swamped, then die."

"Buildings, no contest."

"Which one?"

(F/N) snuck a look over his shoulder.

There were two houses they could pick. One ten or so meters to their left, and the building behind them, which the Humvee was embedded in.

He heard the loud sound of feet shuffling on hard-packed sand.

"Fucker!" (F/N) hissed, whipping back around.

A head wrapped in a black balaclava ducked behind out of sight before he could get a round off.

"Hey, I got one right on-"

(F/N) was interrupted by Leo, who let loose a long burst of fire from his machine gun, then ducked down behind the tire.

"Yeah, same here! Hajis want our heads!" A flurry of bullets pinged off of the hood above his head. "Fuckin' A!"

"Leo, we gotta get Torres out of the Humvee."

"We should get inside first and-"

"No," (F/N) interjected, "we gotta do it now, or Torres is a dead man."

"Fuck... yeah okay, I'll cover you. On your mark."

(F/N) flicked his weapon on safe and slung it over his shoulder. He looked over at Leo, then took a deep breath. "Mark!"

Leo shot to his feet, slamming his SAW against the hood and opened fire. (F/N) pushed the half-opened door all the way open and clambered inside.

Torres was still out cold, laying on his back on the gunner's platform, which made (F/N) worry. How long had he been out? Five minutes? Longer? The longer he was out, the more likely he'd sustained a serious brain injury.

Taking ahold of the straps on Torres's plate carrier, he began tugging.

"Christ," (F/N) grunted, "you're a heavy sunovabitch."

"Hurry it up!" Leo yelled in between bursts of fire. "I'm almost out!"

"I'm fucking trying!" (F/N) yelled back, putting one foot onto the sand.

Suddenly, his headset picked up the sound of a car engine starting.

(F/N) wondered if he was hallucinating until Leo yelled at him. "Shit! Hit the dirt, (F/N)! Technical!"

The air filled with an ear-splitting chatter as a volley of red tracers ripped a path above (F/N)'s head. (F/N) tripped over himself in panic, falling out of the Humvee onto the sand.

Another volley of tracers tore through the Humvee. He covered his head as debris showered down on top of him. He felt a force tug on his shoulder strap, pulling him to the right.

"I gotcha!" Leo yelled.

"Stop, Leo, stop!" (F/N) shouted over the gunfire. "Get Torres!"

"We're no good to him if we're dead!"

Leo dragged him through the doorway of the partially destroyed house as tracers punched through the mud-brick walls. Dropping (F/N), Leo flopped onto the ground next to him. (F/N) closed his eyes as more shrapnel peppered his face.

The barrage seemed to last minutes, but eventually, it ended. Somehow, he was still alive.

"Leo!" (F/N) called out.

"I'm good!" Leo answered.

(F/N) opened his eyes. A miniature dust storm had been kicked up from all the chaos. He coughed, wincing slightly as he waved a hand to clear the air. As it swirled around, he got a few seconds of clarity through the haze. Through the doorway, he could see a figure standing in the open.

It was Torres. He spun in circles, as if he didn't know where he was.

"Torres!" (F/N) called out.

The man spun around just as the dust obscured (F/N)'s view again.

The resounding _CRACK!_ rang out, causing (F/N) to flinch.

As the dust slowly settled, he saw Torres now sprawled on the ground in an awkward heap. Standing a few meters behind him was a man dressed in black, holding an AK, his face obscured by a white-and-red checkered head wrap.

"What was that?" Leo asked.

Another man joined the first, stepping out from behind the Humvee.

"(F/N)?"

The first man looked up from the body of Torres, making eye contact with (F/N).

(F/N) and the man shared a moment of shock, then came to their senses.

"Motherfuckers!" (F/N) yelled, fumbling for his carbine.

He watched in what seemed like slow motion as the man simply raised his rifle. A hail of bullets snapped by him. One struck him in the chest, throwing him onto his back with a cry of pain.

Boyd's carbine clattered to the ground.

"Fuck!" Leo yelped, reaching out towards him.

(F/N), tgasping and spasming, his vision blurred with pain, managed to reach out towards Leo. Leo grasped his hand and pulled hard.

(F/N) uttered another strangled cry of pain as he was pulled away. Bullets raked the ground where he'd been only a few seconds prior.

"Eat shit, motherfucker!" Leo shouted at the doorway, raising his gun and spraying a volley through the wall.

Leo, lowering his weapon, scrambled to his feet and pulled (F/N) a little farther into the house, unceremoniously dropping him. Red faced and choking, (F/N) barely managed to suck in a deep breath of air.

"Fuck!" (F/N) coughed, shutting his eyes tight. "Fuck!"

Every little movement sending a searing pain shooting through his torso. It felt like someone had teed off on his chest with a sledgehammer.

Leo rolled him onto his back.

"Stop fighting me!" Leo grunted as (F/N) tried to push his hands away.

(F/N) felt Leo shove his hands under his plate carrier and feel around.

"Stop, Leo!" (F/N) wheezed, "please, it fucking hurts!"

Leo dodged a fist. "Fuck, dude, chill out. Your plate caught it."

He quickly pulled his hands away and backed up, letting (F/N) ride out the pain.

"Ugh, God," (F/N) gasped, the pain starting to fade, "it fucking hurts."

"No shit, dog, it probably fractured a rib or two."

A volley of shots punched through the walls.

"Fuck me!" Leo hissed.

"What the hell is that?" (F/N) coughed.

"They have a truck with a big-fuck-off gun on it," Leo said, readjusting his helmet.

A shot zipped through the wall near Leo's head.

"Assholes!" he said, turning his head away.

(F/N) evened out his breath, finally able to think clearly again. He let out a sigh of relief. He took a moment to size up their situation.

Not good was his conclusion.

"What...can... we do?" (F/N) said in between shaky breaths. "I got... nothin'."

"Wait for help."

(F/N) coughed. "They fucking killed Torres, man... it's just us."

Some voices shouted in the distance, which (F/N) heard through the hole in the wall.

"Damnit," Leo spat.

 _We're going to die here_ , (F/N) thought to himself.

Leo bit his lip and glanced over his shoulder.

"Can you stand?" Leo asked, returning his attention to (F/N).

"Maybe."

A flicker of movement in the corner of (F/N)'s attention. A long rifle barrel was poking through the doorway. His eyes went wide.

Leo's head whipped around as a man dressed in black came through the doorway. Dropping onto his back, Leo swung his SAW up and sprayed in a wide arc.

Blood splattered against the wall as the man slumped against it, crumpling into a heap on the floor.

" _Fuck!_ " Leo spat.

The moment of surprise quickly passed as many angry voices started to ring out around them.

Leo lowered his machine gun and glanced at (F/N) over his shoulder. "Y-you good?"

"Yeah, nice fucking save dude."

"Fuck," Leo said again, looking back at the door.

Leo shook his head. Getting to his feet, He waddled waddled across the room, putting himself just outside of view from the doorway. He stopped and picked something up off of the floor.

It was Boyd's M4. Hastily waddling back to (F/N), he knelt and performed a quick check of the weapon.

"I told you not to lose this," he said.

"Sorry, I got shot."

"Yeah," Leo said, reaching down and taking ahold of the shoulder straps of (F/N)'s plate carrier. He grunted, pulling (F/N) onto his rear. "Don't do it again, you scared the shit out of me."

(F/N) laughed dryly. Leo set him against the wall then shoved the weapon into his arms.

"You have a plan?" (F/N) asked.

Leo looked at him, causing (F/N) to pause. His eyes were vacant, just staring through him.

"Leo?"

Leo blinked and the vacant look was gone, replaced by what looked like... acceptance?

"I... I'm gonna give you some time," Leo said.

"Wha... wait, no, no, no, no," (F/N) said, grabbing onto Leo's arm as he went to stand up. "Don't do this, don't leave me."

Leo pried (F/N)'s hand from his arm and stood up. (F/N) reached for his friend, but missed. He slumped back against the wall, stifling a pained grunt.

"Leo," (F/N) gasped, "don't do this, don't leave me here, think this through. We haven't considered-"

Leo hefted his machine gun. "(F/N)."

(F/N)'s voice died in his throat.

"I did (F/N)... you did too, I know it."

"Bull-fuckin'-shit, QRF is on it's way, all we have to do is-"

"We're going to be long-fucking dead before that!" Leo yelled. "If not from that goddamn technical, then maybe a stray fucking grenade, or... or... something else!"

A silence fell over them as (F/N) floundered for words.

"We're fuckin' screwed, (F/N)."

His friend was right. Help was a long way out. The forces in the city were always occupied and few in number. The remainder of the convoy would've pushed on to avoid further casualties. They were circling the area, staying out of the technical's line of fire, but they couldn't engage without being shredded. Not without support.

Leo turned around and briskly walked to the doorway, ducking under the hole in the wall. He stopped, pressed his back against the wall, and peeked out.

"Fuck, Leo!" (F/N) swore, words finally coming to him, "Please!"

"I'm sorry," Leo mumbled. "Good luck."

(F/N)'s stomach sank into his toes.

Leo hefted his machine gun and dipped through the doorway. Almost immediately, (F/N) heard gunfire and yelling.

"Goddammit!" (F/N) yelled, choking on his exclamation.

He fell into a coughing fit, wincing as the burning pain in his chest flared over and over again.

He fought through the pain, propping himself on his elbows. He had to get up, he had to fight. He wasn't going to let his friend throw his life away.

He got to his knees, each inhale proving more difficult than the last.

An insurgent's M16 chattered close by, followed by shouting in Pashto and a burst from Leo's machine gun. He was trying to draw their attention, get them away from the building.

Finally, (F/N) was on his feet. _I still have time_.

Using the wall for support, he began to stumble his way towards the door. As he staggered around the bumper of the Humvee, the chaos outside stopped.

(F/N) froze where he stood, nearly falling over.

A single gunshot rang out, echoing into the dusk air. Cheering ensued; the elated cries of men, all hooting and hollering.

The world around him became distant and muted. He sagged against the wall as his legs turned to jelly.

_Oh, God._

Another gunshot brought him back to the present. He pushed forwards.

As he reached the doorway, he put his back against the wall and slid to the ground. (F/N) closed his eyes. The dread that pulled at his stomach made him want to puke.

_This is it, I'm fucked._

No backup. No air support. Just himself and a weapon that wasn't even his.

He felt like screaming.

He bit his tongue. He needed to come up with a plan. Anything to keep himself alive. He'd mourn once he'd gotten out of this mess.

Quickly checking Boyd's carbine, he leaned around the doorway. Not a soul in sight. However, the celebrations had stopped. The insurgents would be coming back to scavenge what was left. They might search his building, but he doubted it. They'd kicked the hornet's nest and would be in a rush to leave.

A bead of sweat rolled into the corner of his eye. He blinked hard and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

"Come on," he muttered.

He turned his attention onto the weapon in his hands. He hurriedly opened a pouch and extracted a fresh magazine. Letting the old magazine clatter to the ground, he fumbled with the new one.

Images and emotions bounced around in his mind like rubber balls, making it nearly impossible to focus. He felt fear, rage, despair. He saw himself sitting in the Humvee only hours earlier, shooting the shit with Leo and Torres. The next moment, he saw himself lying facedown in the sand, riddle with holes, his blood pooling around him.

The magazine clicked into place. He leaned his head back against the wall as the thoughts in his mind grew louder.

 _I don't want to die_.

The sharp crunch of a footstep, amplified by his headset, cut through the noise in his head. He tensed as his muscles screamed at him to move, to step around the corner shooting like Rambo.

He pressed himself against the wall, taking a deep breath.

Someone started speaking. The voice was soon joined by more voices. He guessed that there were three, possibly four individuals. Their voices were hushed and tense, but at the same time jovial.

(F/N)'s jaw tightened.

The source of the voices moved towards the Humvee. He heard the group of men open a door, followed by loud shuffling, the clank of metal-on-metal, and grunts of effort.

 _Wait_.

A shadow appeared over the corpse in the doorway.

_Not yet._

A minute passed. Then another. (F/N) feared the hammering of his heart would give him away.

Just when (F/N) thought he couldn't wait any longer, a hand reached through the doorway and picked up the fallen insurgent's rifle.

 _Now_.

He pivoted on his right foot, bringing himself into a kneeling stance. As he came around the doorway, he found himself face-to-face with a man dressed in black from head to toe, a long wooden rifle slung over his shoulder.

As the man looked up, his eyes wide with surprise, (F/N) squeezed the trigger.

The bullet zipped through him like he was made of paper. Before he hit the ground, (F/N) had already identified his remaining targets.

He saw two men standing a few meters away, one halfway inside the Humvee, his head peeking through the window of the open door, and the other standing just behind him, the mysterious cylindrical device from earlier in hand.

Both were looking directly at him.

The guy in the Humvee threw himself inside. The other panicked and dropped his hand to his waist.

(F/N) shot. The bullet hit dead center.

Suddenly, the brightest light (F/N) had ever seen filled his vision. He closed his eyes and brought a hand up in an effort to shield them. The light seemed to pass right through his hand and eyelids, searing into his retinas.

An intense heat followed the light, rolling over him like a tsunami of lava. It ripped through him, snaking its way across his body, under his clothes, through his veins, inside his mind. It blinded him of his senses, nearly drowning out the pain in his chest.

He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. It was as if he was stuck in a vacuum.

As the heat intensified, his limbs began to fail. His weapon slipped from his hands. He slumped onto his side and slowly curled in on himself, twitching as his mind went blank.

Eventually, after what felt like a small eternity, (F/N)'s mind couldn't handle it anymore. Like a flame being snuffed out, (F/N) slipped into the numb, black embrace of unconsciousness.

* * *

A/N **(2/25/2021)** : Made minor grammatical to coincide with the changes made on my main account on Wattpad. Word count decreased to 6,601 words.


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